


Saving The Reject | Michael Clifford

by fatecanberewritten



Series: STR [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Cancer, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-08-15 14:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8059681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatecanberewritten/pseuds/fatecanberewritten
Summary: "I couldn't save anybody! I couldn't even save myself!""You saved me."





	1. Chapter 1

**Sydney, Australia**

The Australian winter was quick to fade to spring, and even quicker to fade to summer.  January in Sydney was close to as hot as August in New York, and the fact was very odd to Charli.  She felt as though summer had cheated her, and winter had lost her. It was a shame, winter was her favorite season.

Term had started up again at Norwest, which meant possible schedule changes for the student body, but it was certain for Charli considering her pervious fifth period of Statistics hadn't been a year-long class.  She unconsciously smoothed out her uniform as she stepped into her Advanced Placement Psychology class.

"Charli!" she heard, but by the time she'd actually looked up, all she saw was the wildly curly brown hair of one of her best friends. Immediately, she hugged her back, chuckling.  "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever!"

"Oh, come on, Scar," Charli laughed.  "I saw you, like, three days ago!"

"Can't I just be happy to see my best friend?" Scarlett answered.

The two of them didn't get to speak much more than that, the bell interrupting them and beginning first class of the day.  Their teacher, Ms. Elmore, quickly got into her lesson, waiting until the end of the period to hand out the changed schedules, to which Charli was one of the five to receive.  "What's your new fifth?" Scarlett questioned, sitting on the top of Charli's desk.  Only five minutes were left in the class, and luckily, Ms. Elmore wasn't the type to teach to the bell.

Charli examined her new schedule, and gladly saw that it was remarkably the same, in all but her fifth period.  "It looks like I have it open," she sighed.  "I specifically asked my councilor not to give me an open period.  Do you know how bad that looks on transcripts?"

"Char, you already applied, what's the big deal?" Scarlett asked, obviously amused.

"They're still gonna look at it, and that's not gonna fly with NYU," said Charli, beginning to become very stressed about a very small thing. She knew that this was probably a stupid thing to get worried about, and probably made her out to be very pretentious, but she didn't care all that much. She knew who she was and that was enough.

"Just talk to your councilor, then.  I'm sure you can work something out."

Charli sighed as the bell rang, ending first period.  "You're right," she breathed, "I'll talk to him."

The two parted ways at the end of the hall - Charli turning left towards the Math Hall, while Scarlett turned right, making her way towards the Language Department.  Charli walked comfortably - not even her now stressful situation stopped her from smiling to the people she knew as they waved to her.  She knew only half of the school, because, as much as she hated to say it, this school was very much divided.  It wasn't your classic sporty-to-nerdy separation, and thankfully not a racial segregation - no, it was all about GPA.  Norwest was split into two main groups: the kids who were going to college, and those who weren't.  It was a line that didn't often blur, in fact, Charli had rarely come in contact with the 'peasantry' (as she had so often heard them being called).  She, herself, refused to think of her less-educationally-motivated peers as any lower human beings than herself, and that was a _rare_ trait to come by at her school.

"Hey, Charli," came a voice to her left.  At the turn of her head, Charli's eyes settled on a slim, blond boy with entrancing brown eyes.

"Noah!" greeted Charli, giving the boy a friendly side hug.  "How are you?"

"Good, good," he responded.  "Can I walk you to class?"

Charli chuckled a little.  "Considering we're going to the same classroom, sure, why not?"

Noah Haines - senior, like Charli - was like any other college-bound student, as far as Charli was concerned.  Sure, he knew a little more people than she did, and sure, she had no idea if he was the same person outside of school, but Charli has known and been acquaintances with the boy for nearly three years.  He seemed to be just like her; he cares for his grades and friends, and is doing remarkably well educationally.  Charli was fond of his company, and, though she couldn't see it, he was _very_ fond of hers. 

"Well my Shakespeare class has some empty desks - that's fifth period," Noah kindly suggested after Charli informed him of her situation, hoping she would take him up on his offer.  The more classes he had with her, the better.

Charli groaned, shaking her head.  Her schedule dilemma was beginning to get to her.  "Took that class last year," she explained, "I don't think they'll let me take it again."

"Impossible," dared Noah, bewildered.  "That's strictly a senior class!"

She giggled at her friend as they entered their Calculus classroom.  "I guess I'm an exception."

"You're always an exception, miss Valedictorian."

Charli blushed a little, shaking her head.  "We still have four months 'til graduation, someone else could easily get the position."

"Yeah, right," Noah chuckled.  "That position was guaranteed to you ever since you corrected Mr. Mann sophomore year."

She rolled her eyes.

-

"Sup, StingRay!"

Charli shook her head at the old nickname she and Scarlett had granted their best friend, Evie Ray.  It was childish, and the three of them were supposed to be above such childish behavior (they never _would_ be, but they _should_ be).

Scarlett seemed to be the only childish one (today, at least).  "Do you want me to pull out _your_ nicknames, Gray?" Evie warned, the delay on the FaceTime showing her evil eye a second after the intended audio.  Lunch breaks at school seemed to always consist of this type of interaction: Scarlett and Charli sitting together under the windows in the Math Hall, doing nothing more than talking, and staring down at Scarlett's phone.  It was the best they could do under the conditions, though.

Evie, Charli's best friend since about the age of six, had been diagnosed with myeloma in May of the previous year.  Since Charli had returned to school, they had always eaten lunch together, and Evie not physically being there wasn't going to stop them.

It had been a major change for all three of them, and none of them expected it.  But Evie was okay.  She merely stayed at the Sydney Children's Cancer Center for precaution, and rarely did a day go by that one of her friends didn't stop to visit her after school had ended.  It was an uncalled-for routine that they had perfected.

"What's wrong, Charli?  You seem upset," Evie observed.

"She's all mad because her councilor gave her a free period," Scarlett explained, almost sounding sarcastic.  "She thinks it'll keep her from getting into college in the States."

"Good," answered Evie, causing Charli's jaw to drop in fake offense.  "One less person I have to worry about leaving me."  The three of them were all aware that Evie was only joking - for the main part.  What she was saying, though, was not untrue.  In only a few short months, both Scarlett and Charli _would_ be leaving her, replacing her, and each other's presence, with guilt.

But there was no need to confirm what they already knew.  "We won't be leaving you, Evie."

Despite their brief conversation concerning it, Charli had completely forgotten to speak with her councilor during lunch - but that proved not to be a problem come fifth period, considering she hadn't a class to go to.  She took her time walking through the halls towards the administration building, internally laughing at the lowerclassmen as they ran passed her so they wouldn't be tardy for their classes.

"Mr. Stichler," Charli addressed her councilor as she walked into his office.

The middle-aged man chuckled to himself as he recognized Norwest's best student.  "I knew I made a mistake in giving you an open period."

"Great," Charli added, "so you know why I'm here."

"Yes," he confirmed, sitting up in his chair and shuffling through some papers.  "And I've gone to the liberty to give you some options.  Now, unfortunately the only open electives have been classes you took previously, so unless you'd like to take them again - "

"What other options do I have?" Charli interrupted.  She had no interest in repeating a class she had completed with over one hundred percent, it would do her no good in the long run.

"Teacher's Assistant," he answered bluntly, looking up at her sympathetically.  He knew her academic goals better than any other administrator, and the last thing he wanted to give was a blemish on her pristine record that she had worked so hard to obtain.  He also knew that she was bound to detest the idea of assisting a teacher - a class in which hardly any credit is involved.  "But look at it this way, Charli: with a teacher that you've never had, you can get to know them, and with a little charm, you could _probably_ get another recommendation letter out of it."

Charli, disheveled by her limited options, perked up slightly at this information.  "Really?"

Mr. Stichler hummed in confirmation.  "So are you interested?"  With only slight hesitation, Charli nodded.  "Great!  Any particular subject?"

"History," answered Charli automatically.  There was no doubt about it - Charli absolutely _adored_ History.

Mr. Stichler smiled at this; Charli already had a Political Science and a World War Studies class - only Charli would add _another_ History-based class on top of that.  "Looks like the only History teacher in need of a TA is Mr. Duke, room 36B."

Charli was trying - _really_ trying - not to laugh at the name of the History teacher.  Instead she thanked Mr. Stichler, and made her way out of his office.

She found herself once again strutting comfortably and confidently down the halls of the lower level.  The halls were empty, completely empty, with only the muffled sounds of lectures behind closed doors, and the small heels of Charli's shoes clicking against the marble floors breaking the silence.  She was smiling.

This school was only a place, but it was a place filled with nothing but good memories, which was hard to come by in Sydney.  Since she's returned to school, these hallways and classrooms became more of a home to her than the place she lived.  It upset her to think that in only a few months, it wouldn't be her home anymore.

When she came by the stairs, she wasted no time climbing them, reaching the second level of the school quickly.  The west end of the upper level had a great view of front quad - but Mr. Duke's classroom was located on the _east_ end, of which provided a great view of the industrial senior parking lot.  Still, Charli found herself glancing out the freshly cleaned windows.  The scene she saw then hauntingly reminded her of a traumatizing scenario she had witnessed briefly from a distance when she was young.  Thankfully, this one seemed to be consensual, giving her the pleasure of merely shuddering at the sight, rather than running to the nearest liquor store to try to convince the store clerk to call the police, only to be too late in the end.

"Disgusting," Charli muttered to herself, tearing her gaze from the two of them. The couple was pressed against an old, well-kept, black and white mustang, too busy making out to care that it was twenty minutes into fifth period. Maybe they had an open fifth as well. It wasn't a way _Charli_ would have ever thought to spend it, though.

Charli found herself walking into a remedial history class, filled with students she has never come by - it seemed that the hallways were almost purposefully segregated at this school.  Mr. Duke, despite his chuckle-worthy name, didn't seem to be a special teacher at all.  He simply sent Charli to an empty table in the back of the room with nothing to do but the homework she's already been assigned in her previous classes.

Charli, like the rest of the World History class, was almost praying for something even the slightest bit interesting to happen.  Ten minutes 'til class ended, while most students were fading in and out of consciousness, something finally _did_ happen - though it wasn't something Charli expected.

The door burst open, and in walked a carefree (care _less_ , more likely) boy, his easily recognizable reverse-skunk-like hair immediately connecting him with his car.  Charli should have known that the couple from the parking lot had not had an open fifth like her.  "Mr. Clifford," sighed Mr. Duke.  "How wonderful of you to join us."

Clifford's peers must be used to him entering the class so late, not a single one of them keeping their eyes on the smirking boy for more than a second - unlike Charli, who was almost scowling at the latecomer.  When the green eyes of the tall, slightly intimidating stranger met Charli's unwavering gaze, a silence seemed to accompany the tension now in the small classroom - but that might have been just in her head.  It took her a second to realize that the boy was completely glaring at her, for a reason she wasn't completely aware of.

"Please, sit down," Mr. Duke added impatiently, causing Clifford's glare to further deepen, before he unwillingly complied, making his way to one of the empty seats the rows in front of Charli. _Of course,_ she thought, beginning to wish she _hadn't_ wished something interesting would happen.

Ten minutes later, the dreadful class ended.  Charli tiredly packed her things, not even looking up as the class erupted into chatter.  She kept her head down as she stood from her seat and began to walk towards the door, until she ran into a wall - well, _actually_ , a person, who stood there, waiting for her.  "I never thought I'd see the day I'd have a class with a royal," he spoke, almost playfully - but Charli knew better.  "And lucky me, I got the queen herself."

Charli stepped back from him, brushing herself off as she bit back the desire to say something particularly rude.  Instead she said, "Sorry for the inconvenience."

"Yeah, you fucking should be."  He spoke with such venom in his voice, that you'd expect him to find enjoyment in the fact that the girl before him physically flinched when he cursed - but no, he had to swallow hard in order to keep himself from apologizing.  "Your kind isn't welcome here."

"My _kind?"_ Charli finally spoke with enough force that even Michael was shocked.  "Do you even know who I _am?"_

"Of course I fucking know who you are!  You're the best in our class!  You're the fucking prick that's gonna give a stupid speech at graduation!"

"Then what's my _name?"_ Charli hissed, stepping closer to him.  If there was one thing she learned from Detective Morison, it was how to intimidate people.

He was speechless, only proving her case.

"Charli Sparks," she answered for him, angrily.  "Pleasure to meet you."  With that last sarcastic word, she pushed past him, hoping she'd never have to talk to him again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sydney, Australia**

"Should we come back later?"

"Oh, come on, Scar.  This _isn't_ the first time she's been asleep when we've come in," Charli explained with an eye roll, pulling her best friend alongside her down the lively halls of the SC3 (Sydney Children's Cancer Center - Evie came up with the nickname, and her Star Wars fanatic little sister proceeded to call it the S-C-3PO).  "Knowing Evie, she'll wake up in like, five minutes anyways."

Only slightly in front of Scarlett, Charli was beginning to become annoyed with her hesitant and slow friend, of whom she knew was stalling.  The resistance the wavy haired girl continually put up was more than frustrating.  It was as if Scarlett didn't _want_ to see Evie, and Charli knew that it had to be more than the fact that she didn't want to wake her.

"Seriously, Scar, come on," groaned the redhead, tugging once again on her arm.  They were right outside their friend's sealed room, when Scarlett halted altogether.

"Wait, wait, wait," Scarlett stuttered quickly, her words slurring together, "I have to sneeze."

Usually, when a person voices their dire need to have a spastic-nose-attack (as described by Ingrid Veder in their sophomore year), they lose the ability to, and are denied the pleasure of release.  Scarlett Gray, however, is not the usual person - in fact, there has never been a time in Charli's memory that Scarlett _hasn't_ sneezed when she said she needed to.  So, naturally, Charli let go of her friend, and cautiously took a step back to avoid the germs that would likely be spewing from her mouth and nose.

One extremely slow build-up, loud _ah-chew_ noise, and rapid head movement later, Scarlett stood back up straight, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Bless you!" the girls heard from the other side of the door.

Scarlett suddenly looked to Charli, horror written across her face.  "Did I wake her up?"  Charli shrugged nonchalantly, pushing the door open.  Within the small SC3 room was Evie, sitting up in her bed, wide awake, laughing hysterically.

Evie Ray was beautiful girl - she always has been.  Even with the tolls of cancer, there was a sense of beauty about her that simply couldn't be taken away.  Eight months after Chemo-therapy, her golden brown hair had grown remarkably quickly, now styled into a personality-fitting pixie cut ("cute and easy to deal with," remarked Scarlett the day she styled it).  Her hazel eyes were innocent, pure, untouched by the demons that have so long ago overtaken the ocean blue irises of Charli.  It was safe to say that none of the three of them were considerably _lucky,_ or even _satisfied_ with what has happened in their lives, but Evie was above all the most optimistic one of the group.  Yes, she had fears and weaknesses, but that was what made her human, and she fully embraced everything that came her way.

"Was that another lame attempt to scare us or something?" Charli inferred, speaking of her being awake instead of asleep, as Charli and Scarlett had been informed when they were buzzed in.  That's another thing about Evie - she was the lamest, nerdiest, but most charming person you will ever meet.

"Hey, I gotta have a _little_ fun sometimes!" Evie brightly defended as Scarlett walked into the room, embarrassed.

"Your methods are weak!" Charli laughed.  Evie shrugged, accepting it, and joining in with her friend's laughter.

Charli walked to the desk beside Evie's bed, placing her backpack on it, and beginning to open it, thinking already about what homework she should start with (Calculus, without a second thought).  "Wait, Charli," Charli stopped what she was doing, her eyebrows furrowing as she questionably gazed up at Scarlett, giving her her full attention, "before you get settled, can I talk to you two?"

Evie and Charli glanced at each other worriedly, easily picking up on the nervous tone of their best friend.  Evie readjusted herself as Charli crawled onto the foot of her bed, crossing her legs like a child in front of her, Scarlett taking the lone chair beside the bed, sitting on only the edge of it, and taking a deep intake of breath.

"Scar, you're scaring me," Evie sternly remarked, not at all liking the tension now in the room.

"You've been acting a little off all day," added Charli quietly, gazing at Scarlett like she was her child, about to tell her parents she did something really, really bad.

"Do you guys remember," interjected Scarlett, ignoring her friends concerns, "what I wanted to do when I went to college?"

How could they forget?  Her awaiting admission to University of Sydney was only the cover story.  Staying home was not on Scarlett Gray's agenda; she has a whole world out there to see, and there wasn't anything that would stand in her way - not even her best friends.

"Of course you do," mumbled Scarlett after a moment of intense stares and dropped stomachs.  You could almost see the breath being taken away from Evie, the only permanently stationary one of the group.  "Anyway," she continued, flustered, and horribly hiding it, "I might have done something, you know, in place of the, uh - "

"Exchange program," Evie offered, suddenly very interested. Maybe Scarlett wasn't leaving her after all. "What is it?"

"I applied at a Uni," she paused, "in Rome." Scarlett watched Evie intently, guiltily taking in her every little sign of distress.  "I got accepted," she continued. Charli and Evie both felt as if a weight had dropped on their chests - not enough to crush them, just enough to cause pain. "I got accepted for the Spring semester."

"But what about graduation?" Charli frantically added, trying to find any excuse to keep her friend with her without sounding selfish.  But the truth was that she _was_ selfish.  She was selfish for wanting to keep Scarlett from what she's always wanted to do, when in only a few months, there's a good chance she'd be doing the same.

"I'm graduating at the end of the month," she answered, nervously rolling her lips together.  "Apparently, I met all the graduation requirements and then some."

Yes, it was true that Charli was number one in her class, but ironically, Scarlett was number three (only behind the annoyingly competitive Dana Carlyle).  In all honesty, she and Charli could have graduated at the end of the previous year (if Charli hadn't missed Freshmen year), so this didn't as much come as a surprise to her.  "Scarlett," Charli started, to which Scarlett began to physically brace for impact.  Evie and Charli noticed this immediately, glancing at each other guiltily - so, naturally, Charli once again hid her pain for the happiness of someone she loved.  "I'm so happy for you!"

-

 

"Yeah, you're fine.  I need the walk anyway.  Don't worry about it."

It was dusk, and while in the middle of the summer, Charli was regretting the decision to leave her apartment without a sweater.  She was in the northeast corner of the SC3 parking lot, nearing the somewhat residential street she would jaywalk in order to take the shortcut through Scarlett's neighborhood.  She should be home in an hour and a half at the most.

"Why do you sound upset?  What happened?" Dawson authoritatively investigated over the phone, luckily not resorting to the idea that _he_ was the one causing her unease due to his inability to pick her up from the SC3.  Charli was very aware and accepting of the fact that this was the only time Dawson and Emmy's wedding planner could meet.

"I'll tell you when you get home," she answered quickly, knowing that Dawson had stepped away from his fiancée and forty-something year old, principal-like wedding planner named Anastasia in order to answer his sister's call.  Anticipating his protest, Charli added, "It's nothing I won't get over.  I walk to clear my mind," she sing-songed, further disguising her visually apparent distress with the tone of her voice.

"Okay," chuckled Dawson.  "Be safe - "

"Don't talk to strangers, look both ways before crossing the street, I know, I know," Charli playfully drawled, ironically _not_ looking both ways before crossing the street at that exact moment.  The father figure side of Dawson always seemed to come out when Charli was alone on the streets, which made no sense to her.  Charli knew these streets and how to avoid danger better than anyone else.  She thought it must be guilt eating away at him.  "I'll see you at home."

Following the end of her phone call, Charli marched on, the traces of the day fading further and further into darkness, causing the street lights to flicker on overhead.  She had a lot to think about, and as she imagined what her days would be like without her partner in crime beside her, she could feel the tears building up.  She looked up to the clear night sky, impatiently awaiting the first drop of rain to ignite the storm.

Before the heavens could open up, however, Charli's train of thought was broken by the sound of screeching tires.  Assuming she had wondered out into the road in her dire state, Charli jumped back, letting out a startled yelp.

But Charli was _not_ at fault, nor had she walked out onto the street at all.  All she had done was begin to walk across a driveway, when an easily recognizable car barreled in, with no warning but the screeching of the tires.  "Watch where you're going!" Charli nearly screamed as the doors of the old muscle car sprung open.

"Oh, sorry," answered Clifford, sarcasm dripping from his voice.  "Didn't see you there!"

"Excuses don't evade lawsuits," she muttered in a reply, rolling her still-tearful eyes.  With an unnoticeable annoyed huff, Charli turned back in the direction she need to walk, and continued on her way.

"What was that?" she heard the odd-color-haired boy growl, but she chose to ignore it.

"Michael, leave her alone," came the voice of Clifford's passenger, catching her attention.  Charli glanced over her shoulder, and, sure enough, this Michael character was following her.

"Shut up, Calum, you don't even know her."

Anger boiling to the surface after so persistently suppressing it, Charli whipped around, her ginger hair flying up around her, with squinted, angry eyes causing a tear or two to escape, being caught in her bottom lashes.  "And you think _you_ do?" she wailed at Michael, or whatever his name was, who was surprisingly close to her.

Shocked at her sudden outburst, the tall boy stepped back, his lips slightly parted.  Maybe she was right - maybe Michael _didn't_ know this strange, prideful redhead before him, but he thought their earlier encounter was enough for him to know this infamous Charli Sparks, because come _on,_ all these shallow royals were the same.  That was the one thing Michael was sure of - until he caught that thousand-mile look in her ocean blue eyes, and the tears wetting her lashes.  Suddenly he felt bad - _really_ bad.  He hadn't even known the girl a day, and he's already made her cry.  But as she angrily turned back around, he wanted to laugh.  "What," he questioned, catching up to her and walking backwards so he could see her, "did you get a _B_ on a test or something?"

Charli narrowed her eyes, hissing, "Leave me alone."

"So I was right!" chuckled Michael, already having her _completely_ figured out.

With a new found frustration, Charli stopped altogether.  The two of them were already about three houses down from where Michael had cut her off.  "Actually," Charli started with a lethal tone, "you're further from right than _Communism._   You _don't_ know me.  Stop pretending that you do."

Speechless, Michael watched her walk into the night, away from him, the essence of pride she possessed earlier that day almost completely diminished.  "Haven't your parents ever taught you it's not smart for a lady to walk alone in the dark?" he called after her, not allowing her to get the last word.

Twenty feet from the strange boy, Charli nearly stopped at his phrasing.  She lightly shook her head, answering, "No, but I was raised to not talk to strangers."

He laughed, and ran to catch up with her.  "Oh come _on,"_ he drawled, trying to further annoy her.  "I think we've passed strangers, _Charli Sparks,"_ he finished, elongating the syllables of her name to show emphasis.  "By the way, I'm - "

"Michael Clifford, I know," she snapped, having already figured out his name.  Charli's arms were crossed over her chest, her hands rubbing her upper arms up and down, attempting to generate as much heat as possible.

"That's a little creepy," Michael noted, his impressed tone conflicting with his words.

"I've been taught to notice little things, like names," Charli replied, annoyance clear in her voice, "or the fact that you have nothing better to do this fine Monday night, than to entertain yourself by tormenting a girl you've met _once_ in your entire life."

Michael shrugged.  "I've seen you around school before, I think it counts," he commented, completely missing the point.

"This is the _last_ time I'm going to tell you this," Charli started, stepping closer to this boy as a way of intimidation. _"Leave me alone."_

He watched once again as this persistent redhead stalked off, leaving him in the dust, speechless.  He didn't think it possible for a woman to be so non-sexually intimidating, but then he met Charli Sparks.  "I can give you a ride, if you want," he called after her, not knowing exactly what he was saying.

"I can take care of myself, thanks."


	3. Chapter 3

**Sydney, Australia**

"I'll see you at lunch, okay?" stuttered Scarlett, briefly taking Evie's place as the overprotective friend as she and Charli prepped to part ways. It had been just over two weeks since Scarlett's announcement, and Charli and Evie had been able to practically ignore the fact that they didn't have much longer with Scarlett - that was until Scarlett's flight had been canceled and rescheduled for a week earlier than planned. Evie, undergoing a few blood tests that morning, had been spared the news, so Charli felt as though she was sulking alone.

"Yeah," the ginger answered passively, not meeting Scarlett's gaze. She just wanted to get to Calculus and away from Scarlett so she could regain her composure and accept that this was what was best for her best friend.

"Hey," Scarlett deadpanned, grabbing onto Charli's upper arm (of course, Scarlett had no idea just how triggering that rough action was for Charli) and stopping her from walking. "I'm right here," she soothed, looking directly into Charli's shocked eyes. For a moment, however, all Charli saw was her father. "I'm not going anywhere."

The warning bell sounded above them, causing the girls to briefly look around the halls, realizing they were going to be late for class. Scarlett let go of her friend's arm, looking sympathetic. "For now," was all Charli said, before rushing off to her math class.

"You alright, Charli?" asked Noah, near the end of Calculus. Charli wasn't even going to pretend that she hadn't noticed him watching her the entire class period, with that _stupid_ concerned expression on his face. At this point, she wasn't so much sad anymore, but angry: at Scarlett and her mum, for booking an earlier flight instead of a later one; at her math teacher, for assigning _so much_ homework; at Evie's doctor, for deciding to have the blood tests _today;_ at Noah, for giving her unwanted attention; and at herself, for getting so angry in the first place.

"I'm fine, Noah," Charli responded dismissively, her hair falling in her face as she looked down at her math book sat on her desk, attempting to immerse herself in complex integrals and block out the blonde intensely staring her down.

"You were late to class," he pointed out, causing Charli to look up, not even attempting to hide her annoyed stature. "You're never late to class."

"Things change," she muttered, trying to go back to her hardly-started homework.

"For as long as I've - "

"Noah, _please,"_ snapped Charli, raising her hands for emphasis. "Just leave it, okay?"

That was all Noah really needed to prove his assumption: Charli was not okay.

Lunch was almost silent for the blue-eyed best friends, and the forty-five minute time period seemed to last hours. At the sound of the first bell, however, Scarlett finally broke the silence. "I thought you said you were happy for me," she imposed quietly.

Charli looked over to her, sighing lightly. "I _am_ happy for you, Scar, I just," she spoke, flustered. "I just feel like this is gonna be the end of our friendship or something."

"I can _assure_ you that this will not be the end of our friendship, Charli." Scarlett stood from her place on the floor, offering a hand to Charli, who, despite her pride, took the helping hand. "We promised each other that when college came around, we would stay connected with Evie, and with each other. This doesn't change anything, Charli! It's just coming a little sooner than we thought."

Charli retaliated by pulling Scarlett into a tight hug (which Scarlett was not expecting at all), and she gladly reciprocated the action. "I know, I'm sorry," she muttered into the embrace. "It's just really hard to lose your best friend."

"I know," answered Scarlett, pulling out of the hug and smiling understandingly at her ginger friend. "I'm going through it, too."

Following their apologies, life went on. Scarlett stocked off to her Music Appreciation class, and Charli entered Mr. Duke's classroom, where her gaze immediately went to the unnaturally colored hair of the boy she hasn't spoken to since that odd encounter on her way home nearly two weeks ago. Now, the green in his eyes highlighted by the light color of his shirt seemed to stand out to her all of the sudden, and she had the realization that he was the first person she'd ever met to have green eyes (and though she wouldn't admit it to herself, an infatuation with the color was ignited). Feeling her gaze, Michael had looked up from his and his friend's conversation, offering her a sympathetic smile.

Suddenly, she was angry again.

-

By the time Scarlett's job required her to leave the SC3 as it does every weekday, Evie was asleep. She had told her the news, yes, and it had upset her, yes, and they had talked about it just as she and Charli had done earlier that day, and all the while, Charli had tuned them out, and mechanically, emotionlessly completed her extensive amount of homework without ceasing to even acknowledge one of her friends leaving, or the other falling asleep. It was just like her to numb the pain she felt. It was either that, or to run from it.

At six o'clock, her phone buzzed in her pocket, and to avoid waking Sleeping Beauty, she briefly stepped out of the room, flipping her Motorola open. "Hey Emmy," she answered.

"Hey," replied Emmy, something very off in her voice. "I'm outside."

Charli was hesitant in her response, answering "Okay," with much a pause between the syllables. It is a rarity that Emmy ever picked up Charli from the SC3, especially on her own, as she sounded to be. "I'll be right down." Charli began to worry for her brother and his fiancée.

Reentering the small room that for seven months had belonged to Evie, she found it's occupant still sound asleep, snoring like an asthmatic old woman. As Charli collected her things, she thought to move the extremely heavy sleeper to a better position, where she would have less trouble breathing, but despite the loud noises she emitted, she looked peaceful, almost angelic - so Charli left.

As she maneuvered around the normally bright halls of the SC3, she found a kind of elegant gloom about the place, and without looking out the window, Charli knew the skies were cloudy (the distant _pitter-pat_ of the rain served as a confirmation). If felt as if the end of the day was final, like what followed was a moment of peace, or centuries of endless, uninterrupted rest. It simultaneously soothed and terrified Charli.

Emmy had hardly noticed that Charli had joined her in the car, only making it clearer that things were amiss. Before shifting gears, the Brit briefly glanced at her passenger, an obviously forced smile forming on her lips, to which Charli didn't bother to return. "Where's Dawson?" the ginger demanded.

Again, the tiny, fake smile formed, as if it could fool Charli. Nothing could really fool Charli Sparks. "He was tired," she answered, "so he asked me to pick you up."

Charli wanted so badly to call her out on her bullshit, but seeing a girl who has gone from a stranger, to a friend, to family so quickly in Charli's life, she didn't want to push it and hurt her, like she seemed to do almost naturally. A subject change was in order. "How's the planning coming along?" questioned Charli, sitting back and watching the rain hit the windshield.

"Actually, that's something I'd like to talk to you about," Emmy answered, remarkably more confident than she had been mere moments before. Charli was slightly shocked at this information; she had done her part in the planning and stayed out of it, agreeing to do nothing but prepare for her part as one of the bridesmaids. Charli could hardly fathom _her own_ wedding (if she ever were to have one), let alone her brother's. "I've heard you have an amazing singing voice."

Charli could feel herself paling, her breath being taken away from her as if she'd just fallen two stories and landed directly on her back. Each intake of breath became increasingly shakier, alerting Emmy that she'd struck a nerve.

"I know its been a few years, and I know I probably shouldn't be the one asking you this, but Dawson asked me to," Emmy started quickly. "We wanted our first dance to be a live performance, and while I thought we could hire someone, Dawson said that he'd wanted you to sing at his wedding ever since you guys were kids. I know you haven't sung since before - "

"Emmy," Charli interrupted, but she continued to speak.

" - but it would really mean a lot to Dawson. I know it would be really hard without - "

 _"Emmy,"_ Charli interrupted again, much louder, much more desperate for her to stop talking, and finally picking up on her tone, Emmy stopped.

After a moment of silence in the car, both of the girls' hearts rapidly beating against their rib cages, Emmy began to speak calmer, testing the waters. "Is there any chance," she said shakily, "that you could consider it?"

Her first thoughts were _no, absolutely not,_ but she began to think about her brother, and the promises they had made. "I'll consider it," she answered.

The moment Charli entered the small apartment that evening, she had locked herself in the washroom, thinking that cleansing her body would help to cleanse her mind. Though worried about her brother, she had not gone to check up on him. The light was on in his bedroom, and Emmy had headed straight there as Charli had gone to take a shower. _Things will be fine,_ Charli told herself, but the fact that she had to reassure herself was not reassuring.

It was the slight shaking of the walls as Charli turned off the water that peaked her fearful curiosity, and rushed her to get dressed. As she pushed the door open and walked the two feet it took to enter the open kitchen and living room, she picked up on the silence only broken by the light rain outside. She stood in the kitchen alone, her cries washed out by the storm, holding onto the edge of the counter in order to keep herself upright, when Charli came upon her. Even with her fiancé's sister there with her, Emmy felt overwhelmingly alone.

"Emmy?" Charli asked worriedly. "Where is he?"

"I don't know, h-he just _left,"_ she stuttered. "I just asked him to pick his best man."

Automatically, Charli knew both what this was about, and where her brother had run off to. She walked closer to Emmy. "I know where he's going. Can I borrow your car?"

Without hesitation, Emmy reached for her keys and handed them to Charli, trusting her completely. "Charli?" Emmy addressed as Charli opened the apartment door. "Tell him I'm sorry."

The final destination was very much out of their normal way in West Sydney, especially at this hour on a Monday night, but despite the commute, there wasn't a doubt in Charli's mind that this was where Dawson had run off to. The small parking lot was empty to all but Dawson's truck, confirming Charli's assumption. She parked next to him, and walked quietly out onto the small dock, where she could see her brother, sitting by himself at the end, before a small, familiar sailboat, his feet dangling over the edge.

She made no attempt of approaching quietly, and even as she sat beside her brother, Dawson made absolutely no move of recognition - no move at all, really, and that scared Charli (what if it had been a stranger walking up to him with a gun in their hand? Would he even put up a fight?). She pushed these thoughts out of her head, looking at the old yet sturdy sailboat in front of her, mirroring Dawson almost exactly.

"I promised him," Dawson finally said, just above a whisper. Charli felt a heavy weight once again settle in her chest as she looked at her heartbroken brother. "I _promised_ him, Charli."

"I know," Charli answered, her voice lost in the sound of the waves rolling against the boats docked on this small pier.

Dawson gulped, looking intently at the rusty chain, following it from the edge of the sailboat, to the dark water, where it disappeared. "I know she didn't know him," he started, "but she can't expect me to replace him, just like that."

"You have to talk to her, Dawson," Charli advised, her voice much louder, firmer. Her now dark blue eyes met with her brother's deep brown irises, and she hauntingly recognized the sorrow laced in his irritated eyes as if she was looking into a mirror. "She really cares about you. You can't make snap decisions like this; it's not just _me_ your hurting anymore." He angrily broke eye contact, as if he took offence to Charli's statement, but he couldn't deny that it was true. "You're about to get _married,_ Dawson. This is a whole new part of your life, a part that you can start fresh with. I know that you love Emmy with all you have, but you've got to show her," Charli said to him. "Don't let him hold you back, Dawson."


	4. Chapter 4

**Sydney, Australia**

The darkness of the night thickened, the few lights illuminated in that part of town allowing the stars to contrast against their backdrop of infinite depth with a beautiful, glimmering gleam. The moon slowly moved across the sky as the sun rose and fell on the opposing side of the earth, remarkably and simultaneously day and night, in such a perfect harmony that it rivaled mankind's greatest symphony.  At dock 249, the sibling silhouettes that have so long haunted the pygmy pier became so brilliantly immersed in the thick darkness that it seemed to take them away, leaving only minuet traces of them as daylight sprouted; they were stardust, deposited only as proof of existence.

The dawn of the new day brought about its own wonders, its own adventures, and its own realities.  The city awoke like the end of hibernation: slowly, peacefully, with no sense of urgency despite the demanding schedules nearly everyone had.  But there stayed dock 249, a landmark so sedentary in a world so active that it was constantly ignored: a hidden treasure in plain sight.  The tide had fallen in the absence of the moon, lowering the lone sailboat docked at the end of the pier, the beloved waves not having the strength of the moon to lift it closer to the stars.

"Why did we come all the way out here?" whined a pretentious blonde young woman, her childish complaining pinpointing her preferred personality nearly perfectly.  She carried herself like a princess, constantly in need of a prince to save her, and she knew that was all she'd ever be seen as.

Her prince of the day wasn't much of a prince at all, in any sense of the word.  He was using her, and she knew it well, but she had convinced herself that it was what she wanted.  "I thought you didn't want to get caught skipping?" muttered a tired Michael as an answer.

"And I thought you lived alone," she retorted, still allowing herself to be slightly dragged by her _dear_ prince charming.  "Why don't we just go to your house?"

"I have roommates, Harper," Michael replied with an eye roll, still not completely aware where he was taking his sad excuse for a girlfriend.  "One of them is home."

"Wow," Harper noted.  "You're absolute _shit_ at bullshitting."

Despite yet another eye roll, Michael ignored her comment, neither confirming nor denying the statement (not that Harper _needed_ his confirmation).  To be completely honest with himself, going back to his house with Harper probably _would_ have been a much better option, had his home not given him a weird sense of sanctuary he didn't want tainted with something that probably wouldn't last the rest of summer.

"You know, if I knew we were gonna walk this much, I would've worn better shoes."  Harper pulled him to a stop, reaching down to adjust her too-narrow shoes before they were to continue on any further.

Michael wanted to scoff at this, but he was slowly beginning to hate himself for the way he's been treating Harper.  For once, he decided to listen to his girlfriend's complaints, and search for a place to sit for a while.

It was as if he was drawn to it, as if 249 was his favorite number (though it wasn't at all - he was dedicated to the number seven).  The dock really wasn't anything special: small, sturdy, like all the other docks in town.  It only docked one boat, which was a little odd, but then again, the dock was _small._   Completely ordinary but _not_ at the same time.  Maybe it was the little white sailboat, gently rocking with the calming waves that attracted him.  Maybe he was just curious of the worn and faded blue scripture on it's side that he couldn't quite make out from his current position.  "Let's go sit down," he offered to Harper, who happily obliged.

 _Charlotte's Melody_ was what Michael read at first glance, and he found himself loving the idea of a boat being someone's melody, a place where they felt safe.  Everyone, even Michael, needed a place like that.  But upon further inspection, he noticed that he had misread the beautiful scripture.

 _Charlotte Melody._   Somehow, knowing that the boat was named after a person, a girl, whoever she may be, intrigued Michael.  Suddenly, the boat didn't appear to be a safe haven, but a life.  He could imagine a little girl bounding around the deck of the small sailboat, seeing the skyline of Sydney from a completely new perspective.  Perhaps when she got older, her father taught her how to move the sails and she guided the boat for the first time on her own.  Maybe she would take her children out on the boat, the lovely _Charlotte Melody_ , and maybe the story would repeat, forever ingrained as a family tradition.

Michael didn't personally know anyone named Charlotte, but he knew a Charli.  From the two weeks since they've spoken, he's for some reason been unable to think of much else than the self-assured red head that had recently entered his life.  He didn't exactly know _what_ caught his attention, very much like the _Charlotte Melody._ Michael and Charli were the furthest from alike two people could get, but there was _something_ \- something that drew Michael to her.  He had absolutely no idea what it could be, though.

But he wanted, more than anything, to find out.

"I think I want to go into law," said Harper, intently looking out at the horizon line past the _Charlotte Melody._   She was an ambitious girl, however, it was a trait of hers she constantly kept hidden to be the girl everyone expected her to be.  Michael didn't realize truly how lucky he was: Harper Merritt was a hidden treasure, just waiting to be discovered.  "My mum was a lawyer before she, uh. . ."  Harper trailed off, suddenly realizing who it was she was talking to.  A man with her almost strictly for her body didn't deserve to know this side of her.  "What did you want to do after high school, Michael?"

Michael, still deep in thought about Charli, hadn't heard much but his name.  "What?" he questioned, shaking himself out of his thoughts.

Harper let her jaw drop slightly, her lower jaw jutting out a little as she squinted her eyes.  To be honest with herself, she couldn't have expected more from the boy who didn't actually give a fuck about her.  Girlfriend or not, Harper knew that Michael didn't care about anyone but himself.  "Why do I try?" she breathed, mostly to herself, pushing Michael's wandering hand off of her thigh.

"Harp," Michael said quickly, grabbing her hand and stopping her from getting up and walking away from him.  "Harper, hey," he whispered, taking the sides of her faces into the palms of his hands, looking directly into her dull blue eyes.  "I'm sorry, I just zoned out for a second.  I'm listening, okay?  Don't leave."

Maybe it was the shock of this sudden compassion from a man Harper truly believed was heartless that kept her there on that dock.  Or maybe it was the knowledge that he was once again bullshitting her, giving the opportunity to vent to someone without anyone actually listening.  Maybe that's why she stuck around.

Michael wanted to listen to her; he wanted to be the man his girlfriend deserved for the first time in his life, but as he looked into her pale blue eyes, the hypocrite found himself once again thinking of another girl, comparing her to the one who sat before him now.

Harper was obnoxiously prideful in her blue eyes, claiming that they made her unique, and pretty, because _everyone_ wanted someone with blue eyes (in reality, she treasured them because they were a duplicate of her mother's), but Michael had gotten bored with them a while ago.  Having blue eyes alone did not make you unique.  Charli Sparks, however, had the most beautiful blue eyes Michael had ever seen. He couldn't exactly pinpoint the exact reason, but there was just _something_ about them - perhaps they were the color of the deep sea, a beautiful blue that was rare to capture in an iris.

In reality, Charli's eyes weren't much different than Harper's.  Maybe Michael's judgment was somehow obscured.  Maybe he saw in Charli what he wanted to see.  Maybe it was not the color of her eyes he was so enthralled with, but the feeling he got when their gazes connected.  Maybe it wasn't her eyes.  Maybe it was just her.

Harper could feel Michael losing interest in her in the duration of the past two weeks.  She had come to the correct conclusion that he had met someone new; someone that was maybe ten times better for him than she is.  She could feel it coming, the end of their relationship. Whether it be a truthful break off, or a hidden affair, Harper knew she and Michael wouldn't last much longer.  Yet she stayed.  The lonely girl wanted so desperately to be wanted, that she's forgotten what if felt like to be worthy enough to want herself.

She was broken, and he was broken, but their broken pieces didn't fit together.

-

"Honestly, Michael, it's fifth period, why did you even bother to show up?" questioned Calum, the two of them entering Mr. Duke's classroom (Mr. Douche, they liked to occasionally call him), five minutes after Michael had stepped foot onto campus for the first time that day.

"Things are kinda tense with Harper, I just wanted a distraction," Michael responded, his conversation half-hearted, even with _Calum,_ which was odd for him.

 _"School_ is your distraction?" Calumasked disbelievingly, thinking that Michael _had_ to be joking.  Usually, when Michael wanted a distraction, he'd lock himself in his room with nothing but a guitar, or he'd drive off and not return home for hours.  Never would Calum had thought that Michael had resorted to coming to _school_ for a distraction.

But that's where Calum was wrong.  School was not Michael's distraction, Charli Sparks was.  It wasn't a coincidence that Michael had only decided to come to fifth period, the one class he shared with the royal.  He was desperate to see her, almost as desperate as Harper had been to not be alone.

She walked in just as the final bell rang (the second time this week that she had almost been late, which was very unusual for a girl as punctual as her), and just like yesterday, Michael could tell immediately that something was off.  She looked horribly sleep deprived, the gleaming blue in her eyes that Michael had been counting on seemingly drained.  It was as if all the happiness had been sucked from her glowing skin, leaving her as nothing but a hollow, grey form.

But she was still in there; she was still Charli.  Michael wasn't completely sure how he was sure of this, but he knew, with no doubt, that she could pull through - he could almost tell that she had gone through much worse, and come out on top.

So yes, Charli had been a distraction from Harper, but Michael wasn't sure anymore which he wanted to think about less.

No matter how hard he tried, Michael knew that his personal life wasn't going to stop life from going on.  Mr. Duke drawled on about seemingly endless Napoleonic Wars, describing elaborately a determined venture into Russia that only ended in the coldest winters and devastation.  Michael once again thought of Charli.

Finally, Mr. Duke ended the lecture with an overly enthusiastic, "All right, class!  That wraps up the French Revolution!"

The students responded with very tired, half-assed _yay_ s, which, on any other day, would have prompted Mr. Duke to keep the class in after the bell in order to lecture them on proper classroom behavior.  Mr. Duke was apparently too happy to go down that path today.

"We start the Industrial Revolutions next week," he continued, an annoying pep in his voice, "then on to the World Wars!"

Not even bothering to hide it anymore, the class let out a simultaneous groan.

"Also, remember that your speeches on the French Revolution begin tomorrow.  Good luck to you all."

A new form of anxiety took over Michael's senses.  If there was one thing he hated, it was public speaking, mainly about topics he wasn't interested in in the first place.  The final dismissal bell rang, and immediately, Michael shot to his feet and packed away his binders and notebooks angrily. _He can't make me do this,_ Michael told himself, _I won't do it._

He growled as he harshly threw his backpack over his shoulder and blindly stepped out into the isle between desks, only to bump into someone.

"Excuse me," Charli muttered, her eyes never meeting Michael's, or showing any acknowledgement that she had realized who it was she bumped into.

Suddenly, Michael wasn't thinking of the speeches anymore.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sydney, Australia**

"Something happened today," spoke Evie, a sheepish grin brightening her features.

"Is that so?" Charli responded, sounding as if she were the mother of a young, imaginative child who was bound to make an extravagant story out of a simple encounter.  It wasn't like this had been the first time Evie had gotten excited about something and portrayed it to be the most interesting thing in the world, when it normally turned out to be about a T.V. show from Netflix (her latest fascination being DC's _Arrow_ ), or a book, or a post she'd read on Tumblr, or, occasionally, new treatment that worked better than the last (this was always the favorite among them).

But Charli was sufficiently surprised at the news.

"I met someone," she announced with a gleam in her eye.

Charli had not been shocked because she did not believe Evie to be desirable (in fact, she strongly believed that Evie was the most suitable for a relationship), but because she did not fully understand how she had been given the opportunity.  Of course, it could have been another patient, but she didn't tend to socialize much with them; maybe it had been a medical student from the local college shadowing Evie's doctor; it could also be someone she met online, but that, too, was unlikely.  The only other option, really, is if she had met someone in the park next to the SC3 that she enjoyed escaping to during the day - the only problem was, she was the _only_ one to ever escape to that park.  Yet Charli was proven wrong again.  "Wait, there was someone _else_ at that sad, little park?" Scarlett questioned as soon as Evie had begun her explanation.

"Yeah," Evie laughed, "it kinda freaked me out, too.  I didn't notice him at first, he just sat down next to me and asked me what I was doing like we knew each other.  We just hit it off from there," she responded, desperately attempting (and failing) to hide her bright smile.  "We're meeting at the park again tomorrow."

"Alright, that is the cutest thing ever," Scarlett commented.  "That's like, every girl's dream!"

Though Charli knew that statement wasn't true at all, she could see where the both of them had a point.  To be completely honest with herself, Charli had only thought about herself in a relationship once or twice before this moment, but now that it was in her mind, she couldn't seem to shake it.  How would her relationship even start?  Would it be coincidental but sweet like Evie's might be, or would it be something completely different entirely?  She didn't, and wouldn't know, but she did know this: at that moment, she had never wanted a currently unknown face to love her fully and unconditionally more than she had wanted it then.  What for so long was considered a fear of hers, became a longing.

"So what's his name?" Charli finally questioned.

"Ashton."

-

Sunset was probably Charlie's favorite time of the day; not the bright, blinding orange of the just-before, but the soft pinks, and the beautiful details of the clouds, and the stars just beginning to peak out of the just-after. The soft pastels of the beautiful sky made her want to be a painter, though she's never held a paintbrush in her hand before, not even once. Charlie smiled comfortably as she connected the constellations, the soft, distant beat of a garage band she's never met making her feel as if she were in a movie.

As she ventured closer to the music, she was able to recognize the song as Wheatus' "Teenage Dirtbag", causing the smile across her face to grow, ever so slightly. This had been her brother's favorite song when they were little. At the time, Charli had hated it, everything about it (she didn't get the lyrics, and had thought the singer's voice was whiny), but it had reminded her of a time before everything had gotten so complicated; back before they had more serious things to fight about. She could just picture it now, the three of them, laughing, joking, and dancing in the middle of the living room (despite the fact that Charli just couldn't stand the song).

All but the drums faded out, but seconds later, that was gone as well. The music didn't start up again, no matter how much Charli will it to.

Emmy and Dawson didn't yet have a band for their wedding, though they were planning to book a local band they had gone to see on their second date. That was really the only information Charli knew about how the wedding planning was going; well, aside from what Emmy had asked Charli not long ago. No one really knew the outcome of that question, though, not even Charli herself. It was ironic, when you think about it: Charli had advised Dawson not to let him hold him back, but that was exactly what was delaying Charli's response.

It had been almost five years since Charli had last sung in front of anyone, and she didn't know if she was physically able to again. It wasn't stage fright, it was something more than that (though it was a fear), and Charli had no idea if it was something she could overcome in time for Dawson's wedding. But that didn't mean she wasn't even going to try.

As Charli looked back up at the sky, the soft pinks had faded to a purple, and the stars shined brighter than they had only moments ago. But she noticed something a little off: the moon was nowhere to be found. _Where is my beloved moon?_ she wondered.

"Why do you keep showing up?"

Her train of thought broken, Charli turned to the recognizable voice, and found the attached person, walking from the closed door of his house to his car in the driveway. Acknowledging his question, she shrugged, and nonchalantly answered, "It's the quickest way home," before looking to the ground and continuing forward.

"How much further do you have to go?" Michael questioned conversationally. Charli wondered why he was keeping the conversation up, but she didn't realize how much he's been wanting to talk to her. Hell, he didn't even really realize.

"Four miles, maybe."

 _"Four-"_ he sputtered, bewildered, his eyes widening. _"Jesus,_ you wont be able to see ten feet in front of you in about twenty minutes!"

"And?" inquired Charli, stopping at the end of his driveway, and looking up at him. Michael's eyes were a lighter green than she remembered, but she couldn't say she didn't like them, even with his partially-black-partially-white hair nearly covering them.

Michael looked down at her, surprised; surprised that she stopped, surprised that this was apparently her daily commute, but mostly surprised that she was looking at him as if she actually _saw_ him for the first time. He hasn't remembered anyone ever really looking at him the way she was right now. "Do you want a ride?"

Charli let out a puff of air and rolled her eyes, but Michael could tell it was lighthearted, though their first interaction hadn't been anywhere close.

He cracked a smile (which, unbeknownst to Michael, cause a sort of fluttering feeling in Charli's stomach that freaked her out, big time). "Oh, come on, you don't really want to walk _four_ more miles, do you?"

Charli finally began to smile again as she shifted her footing and rested her hand on her hip, causing Michael to smile even more than he had before. "I don't even really know you!" She was speaking with her hands, as Michael would find she did a lot of.

Michael walked over to her, saying, "Sure you do! I'm Michael Clifford, the guy who makes really bad first impressions." By the time he reached her, Charli was looking down again, but Michael tried, nonetheless, to give her his hand to shake. The left corner of the ginger's lips curved upward, revealing a deep dimple in her cheek.

She took hold of Michael's hand and shook. "I guess I could go without walking four more miles." Their eyes locked, Michael mirrored her grin, before nodding towards his car.

The two of them went to their respective side of the car that matched Michael's hair, each with a shy smile on their faces. "So where are you walking from, anyway?" Michael asked as they got in the car, the doors slamming shut behind them, one after the other.

Charli pulled her seat belt on. "Cancer center."

Michael, in the midst of pull his own seat belt, paused for a second, looking at her, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion (or maybe it was concern). "Do you volunteer there?" he asked cautiously.

She was about to flat out tell him the truth, but thought better of it. She didn't know him well enough, and he certainly didn't know her well enough. "Yeah," she responded, only a slight hesitance in her voice. Michael didn't notice.

A silence followed, though it wasn't exactly uncomfortable. Charli stared out the window, clutching her backpack to her chest as if it were a shield. Music was playing softly, but as Charli began to pat attention, it changed to a commercial, and she lost interest. When they reached the end of Michael's street, she gave him proper directions. Silence once again followed.

Finally getting to the point of bothering Charli, she spoke up. "Why are you being so nice to me?" It wasn't like this was a random question, really. In fact, she's been thinking about it since yesterday, when he had smiled at her in class. That had been a terrible day for her, and he had smiled at her. It didn't make sense.

Michael turned to look at her for a moment, and found her to be already looking at him (like Charli had earlier, he oddly felt a fluttering sensation in his stomach, and though brief, it was terrifying). "Honestly?" he asked, looking back to the road. From the corner of his eye, he could see Charli nodding. "I have no idea. It's something about you, Charli Sparks, it's just something about you."


	6. Chapter 6

**Sydney, Australia**

Whether he wanted it to or not, Friday, the last day to present speeches, came, as it always seemed to, uninterrupted. 

Michael sat in the back of his History class, trying his hardest to fade into the background. He was very aware of the dwindling number of presentations, of the ticking of the clock (still a half and hour left), and of Charli Sparks, sitting behind him, intently listening to his peer's speeches. It was really just _something_ about her that interested him, though he had absolutely no idea what it was. Whatever it was, it distracted him. He was trying to get a glimpse of her in his peripheral when his name was called.

"Mr. Clifford," addressed Mr. Duke. He hated being called that. "Your presentation, please." 

Michael huffed, and didn't move from his seat. "We all know you're just gonna fail me anyway," he mumbled, though everyone heard him, even Charli, who sat up a little in her seat. 

"Come on, Michael," Mr. Duke continued, leaning against his desk. "Everyone's gotta do it. You come up here, and the lowest you can get is a fifty percent. If you stay there, I won't hesitate to give you a zero." 

He gave half a glance to the ginger behind him (forgetting to be discrete), sighed, and stood. What would she, the fucking valedictorian, think of him if he got that kind of grade, directly in front of her? It was bad enough that they were on complete opposite sides of the spectrum, but that would only add more distance. 

"Ah," sighed the teacher in victory, sitting at his desk, and preparing for the worst. He knew it. Michael knew it. The whole goddamn class knew it. Everyone but the new TA knew it; Michael would fail no matter what he said up there. 

Having no note cards to go off of, Michael tried to bring forth any information he might have, from the half-lectures he had sat in on, to the presentations before him, that he didn't pay attention to. _The French Revolution,_ he thought. _What do I know about the French Revolution?_ He looked up at Charli, and began to speak. "For a war that started over bread," that got a chuckle from the class, "the French Revolution was one hell of a fight." From the back of the class, Charli held his gaze, and from his spot in the front of the class, Michael thought she looked almost supportive. "But it was a fight that went nowhere. The Third Estate revolted to get out a monarchy, but ended up right back where they started. They had the power to get rid of their king, but they didn't have the stamina to actually get what they wanted from it. And so they settled - and because they were too weak to keep going, they left themselves vulnerable to a short dictator named Napoleon, who would go on to lead them into countless stupid wars that basically caused all of Europe to hate them." He didn't really know at what point he had made it obvious that he wasn't just talking about the French Revolution. He couldn't look at Charli, who was smiling at him now, encouraging him that he was doing well, that he was right. But he wasn't. He was so, so wrong. He looked to Calum, who, though silent, understood. Michael was done. "And that's the French Revolution," he concluded.

"Well," said Mr. Duke. "You were getting there, with the material. I'll give you a fifty-five."

"What?" Michael practically screamed. "That's an F!"

"I'm sorry Michael. The guidelines were to have a five minute speech that covers the _entire_ revolution. You just barely scraped the surface. I can't help that you were acting retarded and didn't prepare."

The class held it's breath at Duke's phrasing. Michael could see Charli open her mouth, as if to say something, but Michael beat her to it. "What the fuck is wrong with you? You can't just call someone that! That's a fucking serious mental disability!"

"Watch your language!" _That's_ what he was worried about?

"No, I will not fucking watch my language! You have _no_ right - "

"I have every right!" exploded the history teacher, very much resembling Napoleon in that moment. "Just as I have every right to send you to the office! Ms. Sparks," the attention of everyone seeped to the redhead in the back of the classroom, who was shocked. There was still, however, a ghost of a glare across her features. "Will you please escort Mr. Clifford - "

 _"Don't fucking call me that!"_   

" - to the office?" 

Unmoved for a moment, Charli shook her head in confirmation, standing as Michael charged out of the room. She had to run to catch up to him. "Michael," she started when she reached him. 

"Just don't fucking say anything," Michael cut in, shutting her down. She seemed to either respect his space, or just knew from experience that talking to someone that angry would just cause them to project their anger onto you. He knew, however, that she was showing amazing restraint by walking quietly beside him towards the office. She was dying to say something, just as she had when Duke had belittled Michael and disrespected anyone who was _actually_ mentally retarded. By the time they had stepped out into the courtyard, Michael just wanted to get the conversation over with. He turned to the girl walking in step with him, anxiously biting her bottom lip. "What?"

Charli looked shocked, as if she didn't expect him to let her speak (honestly, if it were anyone else, he probably wouldn't have). "I - I, um - " she stuttered, not being able to hold eye contact. "I just wanted to say thank you."

His eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. "For what?"

"For speaking up," Charli quickly clarified, her eyes tightly shut. They slowly opened, finally looking into Michael's unblinking green eyes. "A lot of people don't have the courage to do that, but you did."

"Do what?" asked Michael, kicking a pebble at his feet. "Stand up for myself?"

She wasn't sure if he was being humble, or if his intentions really were only self-concerning. Maybe it was a little of both. "Well, _yes_ , but that's not what I meant," Charli shuffled a little, crossing her arms over her school uniform. "What you said concerning the disabled community - it meant a lot. I - um," he looked up to see just how nervous she had gotten over the course of the conversation, and was surprised to see a broken, scared little girl standing in place of the arrogant, confident redhead he thought he knew. "Thanks."

When her icy blue eyes hit his, he felt a kind of rush, which only strengthened with the small smile that followed. He mirrored her. "You don't need to thank me," Michael assured her. "That sad excuse for a teacher needed to be called out on his shit. If I didn't do it, I'm sure someone else would've."   

 _But you_ were _the one to do it,_ thought Charli. Anyone could have, but Michael _did._ That makes all the difference. She took a deep breath, calming herself down. "So what are you going to do?" asked she, changing the subject before it got too far. "You know, about Mr. Duke?"

"Oh, that?" he clarified casually. "I think I'm just gonna drop out."  

 _"What?"_   


End file.
